Monday, December 21, 2015

I first watched The
Iron Giant in the fall of 1999, just a few months after graduating from
college. Had I seen this film between the ages of seven and twelve, it would be
one of my top ten all-time favorites. As it stands, this film still ranks very
high for me and my opinion of it only improves with additional viewings.
Despite the fact that The Iron Giant failed to find an audience upon its
release sixteen years ago, time has shown that Brad Bird’s debut film succeeds
as both an enduring story of childhood adventure and an entertaining comment on
recent history and political science.

Bird introduces the
film’s tone of Cold War paranoia by setting it in the fall of 1957 and opening
with an establishing shot of Earth from space as a newly launched Sputnik
whizzes by in orbit. A moment later, something streaks past the camera, races
toward Earth, and plummets into a raging storm. Who or what fell remains
ambiguous during this sequence, but the mystery won’t last long. Once the
action settles into the small, coastal town of Rockwell, Maine, we meet
Hogarth, a precocious boy hungry for friendship and excitement. Hogarth soon
follows signs that something in the woods is eating metal and he stumbles upon
the giant metal robot that fell from space. Hogarth’s discovery fills him with
joy but he knows he must exercise caution as he teaches this Iron Giant to
survive on Earth. Hogarth, who himself is in need of a role model, takes on the
task of modeling his behavior for the Giant. During these sequences Bird
captures restless and avid boyhood just as I remember it. In one of the film’s
best moments Hogarth shares his comic books with the Giant and casually
establishes a hero/villain dynamic between Hogarth’s favorite, Superman, and a
killer robot named Atomo, who resembles the Giant. Saddled with this confusing
paradigm, Hogarth assures the Giant that he’s a good guy and restates the
film’s mantra, “you are who you choose to be.” It’s worth noting that Vin
Diesel’s effective yet minimal voice performance as the Giant predates his work
as the beloved ambulatory tree, Groot, from last year’s Guardians of the
Galaxy by fifteen years. Although Bird loves the style of the late 1950s
and early 1960s, The Iron Giant delves into social and political themes
of the day with greater depth and nuance than you might expect from a “kids’
movie.” Undercutting Hogarth’s fascination with science fiction daydreams, Bird
recreates a “Duck and Cover” film for elementary school students and demonstrates
the deadly fear of nuclear war and flimsy comforts under which this generation
of children lived and learned. The character of Dean, a beatnik sculptor,
voices repeatedly the need to embrace those who don’t conform to society’s
expectations. Weaving xenophobic hysteria together with an over-zealous show of
force from the government and military, the story serves as a cautionary tale
that resonates strongly in this country’s current political environment. Is
this strange visitor really a child’s friend or a threat to our way of life?
The film’s powerful ending and refusal to shy away from the high stakes of the
story function as indicators of a confident director with substance, vision,
and style who was just getting started.

In addition to The
Iron Giant’s triumph as a single film, it also serves as a statement of
purpose for one of the most innovative mainstream directors of the last 20
years. Elements of The Iron Giant run throughout Bird’s four subsequent
films. Bird’s two Pixar films, The Incredibles and Ratatouille,
both champion challenging conventional wisdom and underscore the value of
listening to disenfranchised characters. For Bird’s first live action feature, Mission
Impossible: Ghost Protocol, he revives the series by returning to a Cold
War antagonism with Russian villains and a missing nuclear weapon. Tomorrowland,
which opened this summer, features characters facing the future with a choice
highly reminiscent of the mantra Hogarth shares with the Giant. The Iron
Giant manages the rare accomplishment of rekindling the exuberance of
childhood and examining the absurdity of adulthood while telling a story that
is as timeless as it is rewatchable.